


Paint It Black

by maypoison



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Art, Fluff and Humor, Gift Fic, Human-Werewolf Interactions, M/M, Male Friendship, Nerd Derek Hale, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Secret Talent, Stiles Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maypoison/pseuds/maypoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek had never seen Stiles so angry. His face was flushed, his hands were waving widely in all different directions, and the sketchbook had been unceremoniously dropped onto the bedroom floor.</p><p>Derek's eyes were still drawn to the piece Stiles had drawn of a single wolf, surrounded by bent and broken branches. It was gazing up at him from the floor, almost demanding his attention.</p><p>Derek had always known there was something about Stiles; that he had something about him that the others just didn't have. But an artist? No, he would never have guessed that ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint It Black

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheTypewriterGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTypewriterGirl/gifts).



Derek Hale is  _not_ a stalker, or creepy.

The man feels the need to establish that to himself in his head, as he was currently scaling the side of a teenagers house in the middle of the night, with the intent of crawling in through his bedroom window, and appearing in the dark unannounced and uninvited.

That would be the kind of thing that could very easily get someone arrested, or at least, it would be very difficult to explain without sounding like a felon, or worse. But hey, Derek had done it before ... He always counted himself very lucky that he hadn't been arrested before, after all, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills lived in the very same house he was climbing. 

Again, Derek assures himself that he's not some sort of crazy child snatcher, or a voyeur who enjoys looking at pale teenagers, as he clamps two hands firmly on the window ledge above his head, and pulls himself up in one easy move.

Stiles Stilinski had closed his bedroom window for once, much to the Alpha's annoyance. It meant that he would have to pry open the window himself; squeezing his large fingers between the very small space at the edge of the glass, and pushing the window wide enough so that he could slide inside.

So much for being quite, Derek thinks, as he pushes the pane, and the wood supporting the glass creaks and groans with the strain. Once it is open wide enough, Derek pulls himself up further, before swinging his legs into the dark room.

Stiles Stilinski is not in his bedroom.

Typical, Derek thinks to himself once again, as he carefully places his feet on the carpet of the teenagers floor, avoiding stepping on some dirty laundry that was piled near the window. Derek didn't need to have his werewolf sense of smell to know that they were dirty from lacrosse, or maybe from running away from a supernatural creature...

It sounded as if Stiles was in his bathroom adjacent to his bedroom, having a shower. It made sense to Derek, considering he could smell him, and had heard him in the house, but hadn't noticed that he wasn't at his usual place at his desk. 

The Alpha is careful to be quiet as he walks deeper into the bedroom, avoiding various piles of clothes and papers that were scattered around on the floor as he moved.

The Sheriff wasn't home, so there was no fear of getting shot or arrested, but still, Stiles was very easily startled. The last thing Derek wanted to worry about was a teenager having a heart attack; or getting hit in the head, again. The last time Derek had startled the young man by appearing in his room unannounced, the Alpha had managed to be amused for about 1.5 seconds, before Stiles had swung his lacrosse stick into his smirking face. It had hurt like crazy, and he was a werewolf. Stiles hadn't even apologised, only put down the stick and backed away slowly with fearful and wide eyes, and Derek couldn't really blame him. He would have probably reacted similarly if someone had crawled into his bedroom in the middle of the night. 

Not that Derek would have admitted that to Stiles. He secretly enjoyed the wide eyes and startled expression the young man makes when Derek scares him. 

Again, Derek has to assure himself that he's not a creep or a crazy person as he walks around the bedroom, even though his current thoughts were suggesting otherwise. 

Derek tries to wait patiently for Stiles to finish his shower, but he was struggling to keep from fidgeting, or going to knock on the bathroom door to tell Stiles to hurry up. He urgently needed information from the Argent's Bestiary. The very same bestiary that Stiles kept on his password protected laptop. The Alpha wonders idly if he should just try and search the bestiary for himself, after spotting that the laptop was open and on, sat temptingly on Stiles' desk. 

Just as the man walks over to the desk, he spots a large leather bound book left open on Stiles' unmade bed. Immediately, the Alpha assumes it to be another bestiary, or at least something relating to magic. It looks old and worn, but at the same time appears to be well loved and well taken care of. Then, just as Derek bends to pick it up, he realises what it is.

A sketchbook.

Lydia's? Derek thinks to himself, as he quickly flicks through the pages. 

No, he had already seen some of her drawings before; of The Nemeton. These images were very different to those. If it wasn't for the fact that they were black and white, and clearly drawn with a pencil, Derek would think that they were photographs. 

"What the Hell are you doing?"

Derek drops the sketchbook, his surprise overtaking his usually impeccable senses. He makes no move to pick up the book from the floor, but neither does Stiles.

The young man's hair was wet, and little droplets of water were dripping down onto his clean Iron Maiden t-shirt. His face was calm, but Derek could hear his heart, and sense what other people wouldn't be able to. Stiles was mad. _Really_ mad.

"What the Hell are you doing?!" Stiles asks, angrier this time, walking into his bedroom, and closing the door behind himself. "You think you can just come in my room, and do whatever you want?! Why are you even in my room?! Why are you ALWAYS IN MY ROOM!"

"Stiles ..."

Derek doesn't manage to say anything else. The young man was too angry to stop his tirade, and Derek wonders if Stiles had even heard him speak. 

"This is _my_ house, and _my_ room. This -" Stiles bends down and picks up the sketchbook from the floor, and Derek can't help but notice how carefully he holds it to himself, almost as if it was precious. "-is mine! Can't anything just be mine anymore!" 

Derek has never seen Stiles so angry.

He almost takes a step back, before remembering that he could very easily outrun, or out-manoeuvre Stiles if he needed to. He watches the young man carefully, trying to keep up with his quick changing emotions. Sadness? Anger? Betrayal? (Derek tries hard not to linger on that one for too long.) Frustration? Hurt? Annoyance? 

Stiles' face is flushed and blotchy as he shouts and raves, with his hands waving widely and erratically in all different directions, but still, the sketchbook remains carefully clutched to the young man's chest. 

Despite Stiles being right in front of him, clearly upset and extremely angry, Derek still can't stop thinking about one of the drawings he had seen in Stiles' sketchbook. 

It was a single black wolf, surrounded by bent and broken branches. It's face had appeared, almost melancholy; very fitting with the wild and dark background.  

Derek is no art expert, in fact he knows nothing about it, but he doesn't need to be an expert to understand the metaphor, or at least what Stiles had been thinking about when he had drawn it. Or more accurately,  _who_ the young man had been thinking about when he had drawn it. 

There was only one black wolf in Beacon Hills. 

Derek had always known there was something about Stiles; that he had something about him that the others just didn't have. But an artist, and a truly good one? No, he would never have guessed that ...

"Are you even listening to me?!" Stiles yells suddenly, pulling Derek out of his thoughts, and back into the young man's bedroom. 

Unable to think of anything else to say, the Alpha settles for a simple, "Sorry."

Stiles moves quickly then, dropping the book unceremoniously on his desk. With his back to Derek, he pulls out his desk chair, and throws himself down onto it. Suddenly, the young man looks back over his shoulder, and glares at the werewolf stood awkwardly in the centre of his room. 

"Screw you."

Derek sighs, and moves forward slightly, trying desperately not to appear his usually menacing self. "Stiles ..." Derek tries again. 

"No, screw you." Stiles hisses, still looking over his shoulder at the man behind him. "Don't you all know enough about me!? Can a guy get any privacy!?"

"What are you talking about, Stiles?" Derek asks, his face morphing into a deep frown of confusion. 

The young man's mood had changed again, and Derek was having a very hard time keeping up with what was going on in Stiles' head. He was embarrassed now, with the anger just lingering beneath the surface. 

"I know how it works, Derek. 'Werewolf Vision'." Stiles says, air quoting the final words, and confusing Derek even more. 

"Werewolf-"

"You can smell and sense everything." Stiles interrupts, turning back around on his chair to face his open computer. "I can't even have a headache without Scott offering to take my pain, or eat something without Erica commenting on it, or-"

"Stiles, I'm sorry." Derek interjects sincerely. "I shouldn't have looked."

"It's a bit late for that now." Stiles scoffs, still sounding less than pleased, and still not looking at the werewolf behind him.

"You wanted something private, I get that." Derek reasons, before moving to sit down on the edge of Stiles' bed. The man was already angry, so Derek figured that it wasn't going to get much worse if he made himself at home.

Stiles stops for a second, just looking at his laptop screen. Suddenly, the young man turns back to Derek, not even bothering to comment on the fact that Alpha was sat on his bed. "Really?"

"Yeah. You think you all know everything about me?" Derek challenges, before raising an eyebrow.

That appears to get Stiles' attention away from his computer, and distracts him a moment from his anger and annoyance. Derek tries not to outwardly smile or smirk. Stiles was always the most curious of everyone in the Pack. "Tell me."

Derek frowns, confused once again at the sudden change in mood, and conversation. "What?"

"It's only fair. You've seen these." Stiles holds up the sketchbook then, and waves it back and forth in the air. "So, tell me. What is it that we don't know about you?"

Derek sighs. "I guess I asked for that didn't I?"

The Alpha enjoys the genuine smile on Stiles' face then. The young man turns, swinging his two legs to hang off the side of his chair. "Yep. You started it."

Derek pauses for a moment, wondering whether or not he should just make something up, or change the conversation. Or even just leave. Derek quickly stops that idea. This was Stiles,  _Stiles,_ the kid who had stuck his neck out for Derek and the Pack more times than the man could count.

He owed him.

"History."

Stiles cocks his head. "Come again?"

"That's what I have my degree in; history." Derek explains, enjoying the surprise on Stiles' face. He wonders whether the young man had even known that he had gone to college. "When I'm not being an Alpha, or -"

"Sneaking into teenagers bedrooms."

Derek nods slightly, acknowledging Stiles' little interjection. After all, he was technically right. Derek did that a lot; worryingly.

 "I translate old texts, read history journals, watch archaeology documentaries..."

"What type of history?" Stiles asks, and Derek notes the genuine curiosity in his companions voice. 

"Ancient."

Stiles frowns then, clearly not pleased with that answer. "More specific ..."

Derek takes a deep breath, and shifts around on the bed for a moment. He really hadn't been expecting to talk about this, least of all with Stiles. "I studied Rome, Greece, Egypt ... Pretty much everything that I could."

Stiles stays quiet for a moment, just looking at Derek with a expression that the Alpha hadn't seen before. Derek actually shifts slightly under the gaze, not sure of what to say. He hadn't really spoken about his life after the fire, and before Beacon Hills, with anyone. He had never really wanted to, until now. 

"Okay." Stiles says suddenly, turning back around to face his computer. 

"What?"

"Nothing." The young man replies, and Derek can tell that Stiles has a smile on his face. "I'm just imagining you with big round glasses, leaning over a massive old dusty book."

"My glasses are square." Derek mutters, just because he can. 

"You wear glasses?!" Stiles exclaims, spinning back around so quickly that he nearly falls off his chair. "Wait, why would a werewolf need to wear glasses?"

"I have better eyesight than humans, but my eyes still get strained when I read too much. Wearing reading glasses helps." Derek explains coolly, before frowning at himself. "Why are we talking about this?"

"You started it." Stiles replies childishly, and Derek rolls his eyes.

Now, they were back to normal. 

"Yeah, I know."

Stiles sighs then, and adopts a serious expression. Derek just waits, knowing that the young man wanted to say something else. 

"Look," Stiles starts, more serious than Derek thought he could ever be, considering he was wearing Star Wars pyjama pants. "Just because I help you with your life, it doesn't mean you all own mine. I help with your problems, supernatural or not, because I want to. Please, just let me have something that's my own. Something I can keep for myself."

Derek nods.

Stiles nods as well, but it's mostly to himself. He turns back around to his laptop, and clicks around for a moment. A few seconds later, some music rises from the computer, and the young man taps his foot against the floor. 

"You're really good." Derek says suddenly, surprising even himself. 

"Yeah ..." Stiles sighs, and Derek can tell that the man thought he was joking, or at least just saying that. 

"No really Stiles." The Alpha continues, rising from the bed to stand over Stiles at the desk. "They're amazing."

Stiles looks up then, frowning slightly. Derek wishes in that moment that Stiles was a werewolf as well, so he could hear Derek's heartbeat, and know that he was lying. 

Suddenly, Stiles smiles, and Derek has to hold back a sigh of relief. "Thanks Sourwolf."

"Does your Dad know?" The Alpha asks, attempting to sound casual, but he doesn't think he manages it. 

"That I draw? Yeah, but he hasn't seen them in a long time."

"You should show him. Especially -"

"Derek." Stiles cuts him off, and Derek is confused for a moment, before realising his mistake.

Right, it was private, and none of his business. 

"Sorry."

"I like this. You've said 'sorry' to me about a hundred times tonight." Stiles replies, smirking towards his laptop. 

"Don't get used to it."

"I won't, I'm just enjoying it while I can." Stiles continues, ignoring Derek's rumbling growl in response. "Now, what's 'the creature of the week' this week?"

"Wendigo."

Stiles scoffs, but still types the word into the search bar on his laptop. As the results appear onscreen, the young man smiles slightly, and shakes his head. "Our lives are weird ..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed! Stiles being a really good artist was originally a little idea I had for my other Sterek fanfiction 'Running Up That Hill', but I cut the idea from that because it just didn't fit with the overall tone of the story. Instead, I decided to write a short one shot about it, and gift it to the incredible TheTypewriterGirl. I'm sure you all know her as the author and artist behind the very popular Sterek fanfiction called 'Home' but she is also an inspiration for myself, and someone that I truly admire and respect. So, here's to you Julie! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (PS: Yes, Stiles' art skills are based on your own! Thank you for all the support, I owe you one! <3)


End file.
